He might follow the circuit Australia-wide.
Georgie brought up a new search, her brain quickly chewing and spitting out thoughts. If he was working a rodeo anywhere but Victoria, could he really be a suspect? She navigated around the screen. Would he leave his kids if he’d grabbed them three days ago?
Under her breath she said, ‘He’d need an accomplice – someone to look after them while he’s doing his rodeo thing.’
She clicked extra hard and jolted when Franklin spoke.
‘I can’t see him doing a rodeo if he’s behind it.’ He pulled up a chair beside her. ‘You were talking to yourself.’
She smiled wryly. ‘You should be used to it by now.’ Gaze back on the computer, she answered his first comment. ‘Do you think?’
He rubbed his jaw. ‘Well, some crooks manage to maintain outwardly normal lives, but Savage hasn’t seen his kids in five years –’
‘That we know of.’
He nodded agreement. ‘Anyway, the kids seemed to leave Upalong under their own steam, so if he’s involved, he probably arranged the meet with Hanny.’
Georgie gave him her full attention. ‘And if they arranged it, he’d hang about to settle them in, wouldn’t he?’
‘Yep. But if he somehow tricked and abducted them, he’d still need to be there to make sure they didn’t escape and/or to give them occasional food.’
Her anxiety grew. What if they hadn’t had food or water since they’d been gone? Their last meal was lunch two-and-a-half days ago.
She moaned. ‘So, if I find him at a rodeo, he’s not our man.’
Franklin swayed his head. ‘Unless he has an accomplice, as you said before, and he’s here in Victoria. Then he could do his thing confident that the kids were secure and return afterwards to try to normalise the situation…because surely his plan must be for them to become a family.’
He didn’t sound certain.
Georgie sighed and faced back to the computer, scrolling down. ‘Nothing on the Australian Professional Rodeo Association’s calendar for this weekend in Vic. Where’s Narrabri?’
‘West of Coffs Harbour,’ Franklin said.
She Googled the distance to Mount Dandenong. ‘Thirteen hours is a hell of a commute, so we don’t want him to be there.’
She began a search for amateur events closer to the Dandenong Ranges.
Franklin reached under the desk and squeezed Georgie’s thigh. ‘Why don’t you take a –’ He was cut off by a blast from his mobile phone, answered with a sharp, ‘John Franklin.’
‘Gordon Thompson, Detective Sergeant, Mount Isa.’
Franklin mouthed Mount Isa and signed to Georgie he’d take the call outside. She joined him.
‘Dean Pickett left a message. His phone’s engaged and so is his boss’s. He gave you as a backup.’
‘Thanks for ringing.’ Franklin wound through the throng, extracting a notepad and pen on the move.
‘What’re you after, exactly?’
Thompson yawned noisily. It could’ve been unconscious or to let Franklin know he’d worked a hard shift and wanted to knock off.
On the assumption that little of Pickett’s message had made it through to Thompson coherently, Franklin started the request from scratch, with the most important information straight-up.
‘We have three young kids—siblings, twelve, seven and five—missing for over two days. They disappeared nearly 200 kilometres from home during wild weather.’
‘Yeah well, Victoria’s known for its shit weather.’ Thompson laughed, which reined back the sting from the familiar out-of-state taunt. His, ‘Go on,’ sounded like genuine interest.
Franklin filled in the background – while a detective sergeant didn’t need to be told how to suck eggs, he bet that the more Thompson knew, the greater he’d care and cooperate.
He heard Georgie’s phone beep, saw her frown and pocket it as Thompson asked, ‘So, how do you think I can help?’
‘They live with their stepdad and mum. According to the mum they haven’t had contact with their biological dad for five years. But we have to look at the possibility that’s untrue and he was the person they were meeting.’
‘And?’
Franklin explained Ric Spicer and the rodeo link. ‘We’re looking into whether he’s part of the national circuit.’
‘Professional rodeo man?’
He thought the terms were contradictory but let it slide. ‘What have you got on file for our man?’
Through the phone connection, he heard clicks on a keyboard and seconds later the detective said, ‘I’ve tried both names: no warrants, flags or records.’
‘And personally?’
Thompson hooted. ‘What size is your town of Daylesford?’ He pronounced Daylesford strangely. Clearly didn’t have any firsthand knowledge of the place.
‘About two and a half thou. It doubles that and some in peak tourist times.’
‘Mate, you’ve got about a tenth of our population in your little town.’
Franklin curbed his response.
‘I don’t happen to know every individual on my patch.’
It was getting harder not to bite.
‘Tell you what,’ Thompson dropped the mocking tone, ‘I don’t know your man personally, but I’ll ask the team, dig deeper, put word out on the street, then get back to you. Okay?’
He barely waited for Franklin to thank him before hanging up.
While Georgie processed what Franklin told her, she gazed over to the fountain, then gave him a pointed look.
He followed the direction of her head-tilt. ‘Oh, geez. I know they’re on together…but that’s my daughter kissing Josh like a little girl shouldn’t.’
She chuckled. ‘Katz isn’t a little girl any more.’
‘I know.’ He sighed.
‘Look away now.’ She nudged his ribs. ‘I tried to find out what Josh’s story is.’
He cocked his head.
She wished she hadn’t started this thread – Josh might just have an odd way of dealing with stress. ‘Can’t see why Manthorp’s playing hardball with him.’ She shrugged.
He said, ‘I think he’s a good bloke,’ and her shoulders loosened. ‘It would’ve been nice if they’d met about ten years from now though.’
‘How’s that?’
‘First love. It feels bloody good at the time, but someone’s going to have their heart broken. Chances are, it’ll be Kat.’
Georgie knew about Donna, Franklin’s ex-wife and Kat’s mum. She’d broken both their hearts.
Her mind flipped to the phone calls and text messages burning a hole in her conscience – AJ had been her first love and he deserved better than her silence.
She snuck another glance at Kat and Josh with a flutter of envy. ‘I know I was the one who said we should go slow at first – everything was back-to-front and fast-tracked, and maybe it wasn’t real or couldn’t last. Now we grab whatever time we can…but it’s not enough, is it?’ She added softly, ‘Don’t you sometimes wish that we had a more normal relationship?’
She felt Franklin’s stare, but wouldn’t make eye contact.
‘Us, normal?’
His low laugh sent ripples up her spine, yet it also frustrated her.
‘I’m a writer based in the city. You’re a country cop, soon to be country detective. What’s going to happen down the track?’
His arm crept around her shoulders. He pulled her close and his breath blew warm whispers across her hair, making her aware of the frosty night. But he didn’t speak. It wasn’t the first time one of them asked the question that neither could answer.
She persisted. ‘Tomorrow, you’ll ride back to Daylesford…and then –?’ She faltered. ‘And what if –’ She couldn’t finish that thought either.
Franklin’s other arm snaked around her, pulling her to his chest.
They stood like that for a few minutes, then Georgie pressed away. She wanted to see every bit of him, right down to the laughter lines around his eye
s and the furrows of his brow.
And perhaps Franklin needed the same. He held her face gently, his eyes moving as if memorising her features. He kissed the scar on her nose that had faded to almost invisible yet they both knew it was there, a subtle reminder of their shared history.
His lips brushed over her eyelids and trailed down her cheeks, his stubble softly grazing her skin as he searched for her lips. They kissed deeply, bodies interwoven. The moment wasn’t about sex. They were two souls needing intimacy, desperate to stop feeling scared.
Hannah
Hannah opened her eyes to be blinded by luminous white light. She blinked and shut them as she swallowed. It was only a mouthful of water but it hurt so much.
A man shouted something. Disorientated, Hannah thought it came from outside the house, but she wasn’t sure. A dog barked. The man laughed and egged it on, making it bark and growl louder. It was Deep Voice and Hannah thought they were getting closer.
‘Hurry, take more.’
High Voice poured too fast and water dribbled out the sides of Hannah’s mouth. As she coughed, she opened her eyes again, this time just a slit, to shield against the fridge-white brightness. The man’s face was in shadow behind the light, which she finally worked out was a big torch.
‘Don’t look at me.’ He waved the torch. ‘Shut your bloody eyes.’
She did, falling back on the skimpy pillow. She tried to speak, managing a croaky, ‘Why –?’ The rest of her sentence turned into a few squeaks. She hoped he got her meaning: Why are you helping me?
He didn’t answer, just pushed a palm over her mouth and she felt so scared and frustrated that she wanted to cry.
Don’t you dare sook in front of him.
She held on until he’d gone, then let her tears leak down her face.
Chapter 31
The sarge muttered, ‘I’ve never felt more useless in my life.’
Sam stared at him. Despite his white hair, she didn’t think of Lunny as old. He kept the Daylesford team on their toes mentally and physically, regardless of the age difference. As the baby of the station, there were about thirty-five years between her and Lunny and he’d run rings around her any time – other than now.
Tonight, he seemed old and frail, like Nonno had become. Only her grandfather had another decade on Lunny when he died in his sleep.
The sarge turned raw-looking eyes on Sam. ‘I tried to send Tom and his mum home, you know?’
She nodded. She’d been standing beside him. He’d also repeated that sentence about five times since in the same bewildered voice.
‘They wouldn’t go.’ He turned back to gaze at nothing in particular among the chaos. ‘They should go back to Daylesford. Being on the spot’ll give them nightmares.’
‘They’ll have nightmares about this, either way.’
Lunny ignored her. ‘Poor Tom. He clung onto my leg when Robyn said it was time to go back to their billet.’
Sam gave his hand a squeeze. She’d hated the desperation in Tom’s face and voice too. And actually, the sarge was right. Personally observing the magnitude of the investigation undoubtedly intensified the horror for them. For everyone else, their faces were a reminder of a good thing turned ugly. And it must have been torture for Ness – how could she look at Tom and Robyn and not wonder Why my kids?
Lunny spoke again. ‘They won’t go home. They think they’re helping.’
Sam thought about this. In their shocked state, Ness and Duane’s distribution of the missing posters had been haphazard. Robyn had worked with hills residents who were also frantic to help, and between them and their children they had filled the gaps on lampposts and in shop windows today. They planned to drop flyers in mailboxes in the Mount Dandenong, Olinda and Kalorama districts tomorrow, irrespective of the horrible weather forecast. They vowed not to miss one house or business, even those isolated on the mountain ridges.
She replied, ‘They are helping.’
Lunny sighed and rubbed his nape, apparently too disheartened to answer.
Georgie rested her back and a booted foot against one of the pillars. She was spot-lit by the porch lamp and gazed into the distance. In a recent habit she’d acquired, her right hand lifted to her mouth and her first two fingers crept between her parted lips. Franklin immediately knew she was stressed and craving a smoke.
Make that two of us.
‘Hello, stranger.’
She jolted and thumped his arm in a reflex action. ‘Don’t creep up on me.’
He laughed flatly. ‘Taking another break?’
She pointed to her inflamed eyes. ‘Couldn’t read the screen.’ She asked, ‘Any news?’
He shook his head and propped on the same pillar, their hips skimming.
‘How are Ness and Duane handling it?’
Franklin pictured the couple. Duane was back to his normal cool, composed, polite self; Ness had fallen apart. Her hair was a rat’s nest. The fine lines on her outdoorsy face burrowed deeper and wider with every hour. She smelt of BO and nobody wanted to tell her, although he and others had encouraged her to rest, eat and wash.
He lifted his shoulders, knowing Georgie would understand.
They were silent for a few minutes. A strange whirling sound persisted over the wind and chattering people.
‘What’s that, you reckon?’
‘Huh?’
‘The sound.’ Franklin cocked his head in the direction of the noise.
‘Apparently, it’s the TV towers.’
He was surprised the noise could carry all the way from the three tall television transmission towers perched further up the hill. ‘Oh.’
Silence fell again.
Then Georgie’s voice startled him. ‘How would you feel if it was Kat?’
Franklin thought about it and shuddered. ‘How’d I feel if my daughter went missing?’
She didn’t answer.
‘Scared.’ His voice pitched high. ‘No. Petrified.’
Georgie reached for his hand.
‘I don’t know if I’d be more scared that she was out there, lost or hurt…’ He nodded to the ink horizon beyond the illuminated fountain. ‘Or that she’d been snatched by some psycho –’ His voice cracked.
Their intertwined fingers gripped tighter.
For a long while, they held that pose, their breaths white plumes in the frigid air. Then a vibration inside Franklin’s pocket followed by a rock riff made them both jump.
He rummaged for his mobile and checked the screen before he answered, ‘Harty?’
‘You okay to speak?’
Scott Hart was on the crew at the Daylesford cop shop and one of his best friends. Franklin could tell by his voice that this wasn’t a social call. His tiredness receded.
‘Yep.’
Georgie gestured in his face and he waved her off.
‘You know we’ve been checking out everyone linked with the Savage family back here?’
‘Yeah.’
‘We’re working our way through close friends of the kids, Vanessa and Duane. We’ve seen the principals and some of the staff at Hannah and Riley’s schools, as well as Cooper’s kindy teachers…damn, it would’ve been easier if it wasn’t school holidays.’
Harty hesitated, then spoke again. ‘Anyway, being that Vanessa and the kids have lived here forever, the schools are just the start. Between them, they probably interact with most of the town.’
Franklin thumped a fist against his thigh, hoping this was leading somewhere.
‘We checked out the home computer – they only have one PC.’
He paused mid-thump.
‘But nothing jumped out from emails or internet bookmarks and the browser history’s been wiped.’
He deflated.
Georgie ducked in front of him and raised her hands. He took pity saying, ‘Hang on, Harty,’ and summarised quickly.
She rolled her eyes.
‘I didn’t exactly say nothing useful.’ Harty set him straight.
Franklin co
uldn’t put the call on speaker in case the wrong person overheard. He was aware of Georgie studying his face.
He told Harty to hold on again and relayed the story. ‘According to the computer crime guru they sent up late this arvo, clearing the browser’s quite revealing. Average Joe never cleans up or maybe does it once a month. It’s high-users, the more internet-savvy or people with something to hide that clean up after they finish a session.’
Franklin screwed his nose, asking Harty, ‘But do you know who cleaned up? And are you sure it wasn’t an automatic thing set on the computer?’
He listened, whispering updates to Georgie. ‘Apparently, Duane tends to use his phone for the little internet stuff he does and Ness hates computers. Although it’s a communal PC, Hanny’s on it the most. And there’s nothing set for automatic maintenance.’
She said, ‘But –’ as he asked Harty, ‘So Hannah probably cleared the browser history? And could’ve deleted tell-tale emails too?’
He listened for forty seconds and wrapped up.
Georgie tipped her head impatiently.
‘The tech’s taking the PC back to Melbourne. He reckons they’ll retrieve something useful. They’ll go through every file and image on the computer more carefully than Slam and Harty’s earlier skim through.’
Mick Sprague, aka Slam, was his other best mate and worked at the Daylesford station too. Skimmed for him would’ve been a fast but thorough check.
Georgie said what he was thinking, ‘Let’s hope they find something soon.’
Sam felt a gentle touch on her forearm and turned to Ty Long, the constable attached to the local detectives. His eyes stunned her. They reminded her of the molten dark chocolate at the heart of the torta squisita al cioccolato, another of Mamma’s secret recipes. The to-die-for cake couldn’t compare to Ty’s gaze though. While her insides liquefied, she realised she was staring at him and dropped her gaze.
‘Would you like a cuppa?’
Sam subconsciously ran her tongue over her teeth. She’d drunk way too much coffee, but after her intense discussion with the sarge, images of her favourite chocolate cake and those eyes, her answer came honestly. ‘I could really do with one.’
Into the Fog Page 16
